


why are you here at all??

by amataa



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (no I don’t), Bill Cipher - Freeform, M/M, THIS IS A ONE SHOT (hopefully) IT DOESNT NEED AN ENTIRE ESSAY OF TAGS ASKSKDKAAWJWJII, Triangle Bill Cipher, Triangle!Bill Cipher, Wow, also bills speaks in c a p i t a l s, as much as tags are amazing they are also a curse, but like a smooth talker drunk, how in the name of frogs do I go this, i dunno, it’s also more cool than having him speak like a bachelor at a like, just dudes being pals in a forest ain’t nothing wrong with that, like fifty percent of ze tags are procrastination, lol nevermind I think I understand now, not-an-abusive-relationship-between-a-twelve-year-old, okay some actual tags please, something where he’s drunk, sorry not sorry it’s just mORE FUN THAT WAAY, uh, what
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28596213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amataa/pseuds/amataa
Summary: “WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE, MEATBAG.”Dipper recoils, now more annoyed then shocked.What in the name of-"Why are you here at all?" he snaps, pressing even closer against the rock.The triangle stiffens, form flickering as if it's offended.And you know what, maybe it is, who knows? Because dipper certainly doesn't.Dipper doesn't know shit about the polygon that just randomly appeared in the forest.or rather, the-comeplete-disrespect-and-ignorance-of-canon!au we all know and love where they meet in a forest and commit verbal tax fraud. (not really)
Relationships: Bill Cipher & Dipper Pines, Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	why are you here at all??

Uh. Shit.

Dipper scrambles upwards, face paling in shock.

_shitshitshitshitshit-_

The teen braces himself against a mossy rock and his chest heaves, eyes transfixed on the being before him.

A being that, for some reason, is currently laughing it's non-existent head of.

The triangle, if you can even call it such, floats with a superior sense of self-importance, as if it were a god about to bestow fire upon mankind with it's twig-like fingers. 

Dipper finds himself completely and utterly disturbed by it's appearance, entire body erupting into pins and needles like someone had doused him in a cold bucket of water.

The teen shivers, and narrows his eyes, finally fed up of it's unnecessary cackling.

"Who are you?" he pauses. ".. _what_ are you?"

The thing continues laughing, albeit slightly quieter.

It stops chuckling to say, "INSANE KID! COMPLETELY and UTTERLY INSANE." before exploding into another round of laughter.

Dipper watches it all awkwardly, still pressed tightly against the rock.

He exhales, and pushes past the blind panic trying to take over his brain.

Of all the things he expected to find in the forest an equilateral triangle was the least likely.

Oh, and it's a _talking_ equilateral triangle.

Ford had said there were _strange musings of all shapes and sizes, dipper,_ in the forest but he hadn't thought the old man meant it quite literally.

Like, a literal shape.

In the forest.

He's still staring in stunned shock when the being claps it's hands, rubbing them together greedliy.

"RIGHT! LETS see what we've GOT to DEAL WITH!" It's eye (eye, _singular,_ Dipper notes) flicks around the clearing, brushing past every tree, bush, and Dipper, before doing a double-take and refocusing on him.

"OH," it stares at him blankly. "YOU'RE STILL HERE."

It sounds shocked, like it can't quite believe what's infront of it's eye.

The feeling's mutual, Dipper supposes.

"WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE, MEATBAG?"

Dipper recoils, now more annoyed then shocked.

What in the name of-

"Why are you here at all?" he snaps, pressing even closer against the rock.

Ford's journal is still clutched tightly in his grasp.

The triangle stiffens, form flickering as if it's offended.

And you know what, _maybe it is,_ who knows? Because Dipper certainly doesn't.

Dipper doesn't know _shit_ about the polygon that just randomly _appeared_ in the forest.

"WATCH IT, kid. Wouldn’t _HURT_ YOU to show a little bit more _RESPECT,_ ”

He’s not sure if he should respond, given that the triangle’s a rather threatening figure when it wants to be.

Dipper replies curtly, “I’ll show you respect when you’ve _earned_ it, _weirdo._ ”

The triangle laughs at this, again, haunting giggles echoing around the forest.

Dipper can’t help but notice how very cold it is, the sky ashen grey, clouds still and unmoving in its grasp.

The sudden feeling that something’s not quite right weighs heavily in his chest.

“Well, that’s not QUITE the answer I was expecting, _KID_ _,_ but YOU CAN have a SECOND CHANCE! Now, why are you _STILL_ -“

”Did you do that?”

It glares angrily at him, twig hands curling into fists at being interrupted.

Dipper gets the impression that it’s not used to having normal conversation.

”DO WHAT?” It finally humphs.

”The forest. It’s grey,” it is, in fact, quite literally black and white, shrubbery reduced to a silvery state of being.

Not a single colour remains, except from Dipper’s worn muted clothing and the shape’s strange pulsating yellow.

It eyes him suspiciously, almost as if it’s sizing him up.

”Yes,” it says carefully. “Welcome to the MINDSCAPE, I suppose.”

”The ’Mindscape‘?“ _that’s new. Ford’s never mentioned a Mindscape to him before._ “sounds tacky.”

”Wha- NO IT ISN’T!You _HUMANS_ just can’t appreciate the _TRUE_ _BEAUTY_ and ELOQUENCE of metaphysical realms and cities built from the THOUGHTS AND MINDS of _thousands of-_ “

”Yeah yeah, okay,” he wants to know how they got here. “But what _is_ it?”

The triangle floats there dumbly, doing it’s best impression of what Dipper only call shock.

It doesn’t respond, arms limply hanging by its side.

”Well?” he presses excitedly.

This is actually kinda cool.

Really really cool.

The shape-y dude has like, transported him somewhere, probably the Mindscape place he was talking about, and he’ll tell Dipper all about it.

Not to mention it’s a topic Ford’s never mentioned before, _ever._

Which could mean the old man doesn’t know of its existence!

Which is saying something because, well, Ford knows about everything.

Except this.

Before the triangle can blink Dipper has the journal flipped to one of it’s few empty pages, titled and underlined ‘ _mindscape._ ’

“That’s THE MINDSCAPE to you, kid.” It comments faintly.

Dipper narrows his eyes, and instantly corrects his mistake.

The page now reads: ‘ _the mindscape._ ’ complete with a few doodled stars and a crudely drawn illuminati symbol, which one can only assume is a portrait of the shape currently in front of Dipper.

”So? What is it?” the triangle fixes him with a hard, incomprehensible stare, slit pupil blank and careful.

Dipper stares back just as hard, albeit a bit more shifty and afraid.

Eventually it sighs, dragging a hand down its face dramatically while it mutters, “stupid meat sacks” and floats off.

Dipper watches it go, still mumbling, and debates whether or not he should follow the mysterious floating polygon.

His mental debate is most definitely biased, all in favour of following the sarcastic and annoying triangle through the grey trees.

Dipper stumbles after it, slinging his backpack over one shoulder determinedly.

He will get answers, and he will find out where the hell he is.

* * *

The triangle is surprisingly _-frustratingly-_ quick, he eventually discovers after many minutes of trying to catch it.  
  


Not that Dipper’s tired or anything!  
  
He’s only a tiny bit winded, a _tiny_ bit.

”Just go home, Pinetree.” The triangle comments dryly.

”I already told you I don’t know _how,_ I don’t even know where I am!”

”Well that’s not my problem, kid, now LEAVE ME ALONE.”

Dipper sighs, and watches warily as the triangle approaches yet another deer.

”Are you going to take this one’s teeth as well, then?” he says.

The triangle hums, neither a confirmation or a denial, and strokes a spindly finger underneath his eye.

”LETS SEE,” it muses.

Dipper rolls his eyes, and sits down on a rock.

So far, he knows nothing.

Well, he does know that he’s still in gravity falls and that his ‘companion’ is a narcissistic _prick,_ but other than that not much else has been discovered.

His picks up his pen, and adds another drawing of the triangle to his collection.

There’s nothing else to do, and drawing such a unique shape is good for his observation skills!

He rounds its strange eye with a flick, and debates where on Earth it came from.

Or rather, where not on earth.

”Are you an alien?”

”HAH, NO. EVEN WORSE THAN YOUR LAST ATTEMPT, KID!”

Dipper scowls.   
  
Technically a UFO is correct.

”Then what are you? And how am I supposed to make a good guess if you won’t even give me a hint!”

”Maybe you shouldn’t _TRY to_ FORMULATE A COMPREHENSION AT ALL!”

Dipper won’t dignify that with a response.

He sulks in silence, arms crossed over his chest.

The triangle sighs exasperatedly, groaning long and loud.

”FINE,” it exclaims, “WILL YOU STOP FILLING THE ATMOSPHERE WITH YOUR STUPID _EMOTIONS_ IF I GIVE YOU AN IDEA?”

Dipper smiles to himself, and nods happily.

The triangle twitches, probably annoyed again, and zooms over, pressing up in Dipper’s space.

”THE NAME’S BILL CIPHER, and you should do your BEST to _REMEMBER IT_ KID.“

Dipper quirks an eyebrow at that, frowning.

The name sounds familiar, like he’s heard it before, somewhere.

”-YOURS TRULY IS AN _ALL-POWERFUL BEING_ OF _PURE ENERGY_ WITH AN IQ HIGHER THAN _NINETEEN_ TEENAGERS AT A HIGH-SCHOOL REUNION PARTY.“

It was probably in one of Ford’s stories, although Dipper’s memorised every single one of them, so the probability of him forgetting one is quite unlikely.

”-ALL THOUGH, THERE WAS THIS ONE GUY WHO CAME UP TO ME SOME TIME, real charmer he was, LOTS OF TENTACLES! ANYWAY, so he _waltzed up_ to YOUR GRACIOUS HOST WITH A SMILE AND SAID-“

Maybe his name was in a spell? A summoning! Maybe the triangle’s some sort of deity of... _shapes._

”-NEVER TRUST A GUY WITH SIX FINGERS PINETREE I’M TELLING YOU, THEY’LL DESTROY YOUR STATUES AND STAB YOU RIGHT IN THE-“

Though Dipper’s pretty sure if a God of shapes existed he’d be far less insufferable than this weirdo.

“Being of pure energy?” he interrupts. “what does that mean?”

The triangle draws in a deep breath, and replies in quite possibly the sassiest tone he’s ever heard.

”It means you’re an _INFERIOR LIFE FORCE_ THAT _DOESN’T UNDERSTAND_ POLITE CONVERSATION, and _I’M_ the CLOSEST THING TO A _GOD_ YOU’LL EVER MEET.”  
  


He’s pretty sure _Bill_ is the one who doesn’t understand polite conversation.

Dipper hmms, and jots it down, along with five question marks.

“And would you say your shape is an imitation of the illuminati symbol or a-“

”ARE YOU DONE YET KID,” the triangle looks irritated, hands twitching at its sides. “ _SOME items of idolisation and worship_ ACTUALLY HAVE IMPORTANT THINGS TO DO.”

It pauses at Dipper’s forlorn expression, and glares, before turning around and floating off.

Dipper sighs, and returns to his notes.

A few pinetrees appear, though they’re mostly from his imagination and new nickname, courtesy of the strange equilateral that calls itself Bill.

Dipper frowns, and scribbles out the tree's leaves.

Of course, a few minutes later ‘Bill’ returns, hovering over his shoulder and staring down at the page now filled with various doodles of the forest.

Dipper tries to ignore the strange presence, although it’s very hard to do so.

The triangle quite possibly has the most intrusive aura he’s ever felt, like it sucks the air out of the room until all you can focus on his him.

Dipper wouldn’t say the shape _commands_ the room though, it’s more like he waltzes in and brainwashes everyone into becoming his evil minions.

Although that would quite literally be impossible, since you’d have to be highly skilled at spell casting and such to even achieve a slight mind control spell.

Dipper doubts a _triangle_ could dominate around seven humans at the same time.

Ford struggles with just _animals._

Not that his uncle frequently goes around mind-controlling innocent creatures or anything, of course.

Although it would explain his strange, periodic disappearances. 

”Why are you watching me?” he eventually asks, too confused as to why the shape has shrunk to the size of an apple and settled on his- _Ford’s_ journal.

”Don’t you have more ‘actually _important’_ things to do-”

he scribbles in the shade of a bush.

”-you know, the stuff that an item of worship and idolisation normally does.” he snorts at the thought.

Bill watches his pencil move across the paper with a narrowed eye, almost transfixed with it’s movements.

”WELL, I DO,” he pauses when Dipper starts a new sketch. “But COMMANDING AN ARMY OF _INNOCENTS_ gets boring after a while.”

Dipper raises an eyebrow at that.

”Observing the habits of LOWER LIFE FORMS IS _MUCH_ MORE ENTERTAINING, especially when they can somewhat hold a conversation!”

Dipper raises both eyebrows at that.

”So you think I can-“

”ANYHOW, what’s a young MEATSACK like yourself doing on _THIS_ side of the universe?”

”You can’t just-“

”I HAPPEN TO BE LOOKING FOR SOMEONE, an old friend of mine, you could say. Think you’ve _SEEN ‘EM AROUND?_ ”

Dipper scowls at the obvious subject change, but allows it nonetheless.

”Depends,” he nudges Bill away when his shrunken form tries to steal Dipper’s pencil. “What do they look like?”

”Oh, same as THE REST OF you all.”

”Which is _what,_ exactly.”

Bill snickers as he smudges both hands over one of Dipper’s drawings.

”FLABBY, SHABBY and with FAR TOO HIGH BLOOD-SUGAR LEVELS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD!”

”Right.” Dipper should’ve guessed he'd answer with even more cryptics. “And that tells me exactly- _hey,_ stop that!”

He flicks Bill’s pointy hands off his paper, and then flicks the whole shape away for good measure.

Bill cartwheels backwards, snickering the whole time.

Dipper scowls at his now-smudged sketch, and turns his glare on the triangle.

”WHAT?” Bill fakes innocence. “I DIDNT DO ANYTHING TO YOUR WILDLIFE IMITATION!”

Dipper’s scowl increases, and he carefully shuts the journal, placing it alongside the other notebooks in his backpack.

“Well, this has been nice,” it hasn’t, not _really_ at least, “But I need to get back to the forest.”

He hopes it’s not too late, Ford would go berserk, and Stan would give him that grudging stare he always gives when he’s concerned but won’t show it.

The triangle stiffens, as if surprised. 

“OH,” he says. “YOU'RE LEAVING.”

Dipper can’t help the smile that fights it’s way across his face.

”Now don’t go crying on me, polygon weirdo.”

”UGH!” Bill waves a hand in disgust. “AS _IF!_ ”

“Was that a-“

The shape quickly shouts: ”WELL THEN, this has been _NICE N' ALL,_ I GUESS I’LL SEE YOU, hmmm, _never._ SO LONG, _MEATSACK._ ”

And clicks his fingers.

Dipper finds himself transported back into the colourful version of Gravity Falls’ forest, still holding his backpack in one hand and blinking in confusion.

The teenager stares back blankly at the squirrel watching him.

“Wow.”

...he still doesn’t know what the mindscape is.

Maybe he can ask Ford.

**Author's Note:**

> it’s just two dudes being pals in a forest, ain’t nothing wrong with that.
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> have a truly spectacular day, and if you’re reading this at night, GET SOME SLEEP BRO PLEASE you need IT.


End file.
